


Mercy

by eratothemuse



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Pregnant!Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 00:17:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16984527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eratothemuse/pseuds/eratothemuse
Summary: Thranduil's rage can only be subdued by one person, his wife.





	Mercy

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the Imagine: Imagine being Thranduil’s pregnant wife and a soldier gets rough and grabs your arm, making you cry out in pain and Thranduil gets extremely mad.  
> This is a request for anon based on the imagine linked above. I hope you like it and that it’s good! This is my first time writing Thranduil, so I hope I did well! Thranduil says “meleth nîn” once which (according to google) means “my love.” (Don’t kill me if I’m wrong, please!)  
> \- Meg <3 xx

You had nearly had to order your own horse be saddled before Thranduil had allowed you to come with him. Usually, it was no problem. You could handle yourself to a certain extent, and you would mostly stay in the camp while he went off to battle, doing what you could for the wounded.

You had never been that good at waiting idly by while Thranduil went to war.

But it was different this time. You had discovered your pregnancy not long ago, and ever since you broke the news to the Elvenking he had been even more protective of you than he already was. Naturally, he had forbidden you from making the journey with him to the Lonely Mountain, but you’d never let him forbid you from anything before and you weren’t about to start now.

Thranduil had once told you that your stubbornness was an endearing quality, but he grit his teeth when those words backfired on him now.

He had barely said a word to you the whole journey, sullen pride keeping his grip around you rigid as you rode into camp. He helped you off the elk as you set off to work. The people of Lake Town were a sorry sight, dirty and starving in their wait for the King under the Mountain to open his gates to them.

But that wasn’t your business, it was Thranduil’s. Your business was taking the food to them.

An Elven soldier hovered around you for protection as you carried food of this and that sort to the people who gazed upon it as if it were worth more than any gold or silver they’d seen before. You weren’t surprised that none of them seemed to know who you were, and you preferred it that way. The constant formality and bowing that would ensue if they did would become tiring as you tried to get food to them as quickly as possible.

An elderly woman took the bread you offered, “Thank you, dear. I see you have a bun in the oven as well as in the hand!” She joked, eyes wrinkling at the corners as she laughed.

You smiled, reaching down to place a protective hand over your swollen stomach, “Yes. I’ve just started to show, really. I feel as if I’m a giant balloon, but my husband assures me I am the most beautiful balloon there ever was!”

She laughs again, patting your shoulder comfortingly as she munches on the food you’ve offered, “Just wait! When I had my boys I was nearly the size of the doorway, but then again, I was a baker’s wife!” You laugh at her story before she thanks you for the food, heading off into the crowd.

Carrying on, you head towards a group of bustling men. They hurried around what little weapons they had, preparing them for battle if need be. You hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but dwarves were very hard headed, and Thranduil had told you Durin’s folk were the most stubborn ones he’s ever come across.

“Excuse me,” you smile, gesturing to your guard to go and retrieve more food, “We come bearing food, if any of you are hungry?” A few of them look up at you, but they quickly go back to their work. You sigh, moving closer as your guard walks off towards the food cart near the rest of the elves.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but you really must eat. If you are waiting for the women and children to eat first, they already have so-” you feel someone back into you, causing you to stumble forward a bit as you turned. It was a burly man, decked in worn armor of any sort he could seem to find. He frowned at seeing what blocked his path, adjusting himself as he walked towards you.

You hadn’t even realized you’d angered him until he gripped your arm, “This is no place for a pregnant woman! Stay out of the way, wench!” The soldier’s grip tightened as he tugged you forward, pushing you to the side when you cried out. Your pained squeal had made Thranduil’s head snap in your direction, eyes filled with worry which morphed into anger when he realized the cause of the sound.

“You dare lay hand on my queen?” he growled, marching over to the human who began to realize his mistake, and just who you were. Thranduil drew his blade, pointing it at the cowering man, “I will have it for that.”

“M-My Lord,” the man squawked, taking a step back that was only matched by the sword advancing towards him, “It was an honest mistake. I didn’t know she was t-the queen.”

Thranduil’s heated glare moves from him to soften at you, “Are you all right, meleth nîn?” He reaches out with the hand not gripping the sword to take your arm, studying it for any damage.

You lean into his touch, coming to stand beside him, “Yes, I am fine.” Thranduil’s brow furrows even more as his gaze slips down to your rounded stomach, “The baby is fine, too.” Thranduil lets out a breath of relief before his glare hardens and he turns back to the cowering human before him, who was now flanked by Elven soldiers, holding him still for judgement.

“Thranduil,” you speak, stopping whatever is about to unfold, “all is well. Please, do not harm the man.”

“He needs to know his place. He has committed a treasonous act, (Y/N),” Thranduil states angrily, moving closer with his blade only to be stopped by your gentle tug on his arm.

“I agree that he did, but if war does break out between you and the dwarves, do you really want to be one soldier short?” Thranduil’s jaw clenches, wanting nothing more than to do physical harm to the man, but he listens to you. He lowers his sword, ordering his soldiers to let the man go.

“T-Thank you so mu-” the man begins, taking a step closer to you only to be silenced by the sword that is once again pointed at him.

Thranduil sends a silent threat as he sheaths his sword with a flourish, “Don’t forget that you still have your hand because my queen spoke words of mercy this day.” Thranduil nods to his soldiers before taking you by the hand and leading you towards his tent.

“Be glad, human,” one of the elven soldiers scoff, nudging the man forward, “that she quelled the wrath of the Elvenking.”


End file.
